


Close to the Flames

by wantadonut



Category: X-Men
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-13
Updated: 2011-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:54:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wantadonut/pseuds/wantadonut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And you'll be named after a god, little flame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close to the Flames

**1**

 **  
**

_You know. You know you are a little flame that longs to wake up._

“And to you will be given the name St. John Allerdyce.” The man sitting behind the wood desk was working in a typewriter while the boy remained standing, his eyes hurt and so full of rage made it seem possible that he could burn someone with his stare. The typist didn’t know how it was possible to fit so much hate in such a small body.

“There are enough saints out there and I’m not one of them. Just let me be another one, just another John.” He could feel his fingernails entering the flesh inside his hands, the strength put in it was bringing him more and more pain and there were some drops of blood in the wooden floor beneath him. “If you don’t, I’ll assume the name of a God.”

 _Little flame, come and get me. You know how to find me, little flame. Pyro._

“A monster will never come close to a God.” The man saw the almost psychotic smile that reached the recently named St John Allerdyce thin and pink lips.

“Oh, no. I never said I wanted to come close to Him. Monsters have wings to overclass gods, not only reach.”

 _Pyro. You’ll be named as a God, little flame._ _The God of love and hate. Of the infinite and untouchable fire._

 **2**

 _Wake up, St. John. The act cannot start without its main character. Wake up, resurrection fire._

It was like enjoining himself during a dream. To believe or not, that was not his concern anymore but finding out what was that monster who, without his consent, seemed eager to create a corrosive tunnel through his flesh, until he found his dearest freedom to practice that so necessary bloodbath.

The feeling of having the greatest power in the world but being afraid of a possible self-destruction. He knew what was coming, but was he strong enough not to collapse?

Was he ready?

 _The little flame needs to feed. Devour, devour, devour._

And there he was wandering through the night, bathed by surreal lights and the darkest feeling he had ever had. It was as if he was untouchable. No, no…

Nothing could ever erase his existence. Nothing.

 _Devour!_

Nothing but himself.

And suddenly everything became red. Everything turned into fire.

 **3**

 

Cool hands, warm eyes. A firm and cold body, but a kind and cozy soul. He never thought the combination of fire and ice was possible. But now he secretly prayed for this to work out, for him to be saved.

 _You don’t want to be saved, you want to be contained. Little flame, do you want to be put out?_

But when the lips touched, he realized the process was already happening.

He would lose everything. He would lose power, he would lose his heat and his fire. He would lose the love. Or maybe it was possible for his love for power to be reconstituted in the shape of carnal love? Maybe even in the shape of the love created by the soul. Was it possible that that was another creation of those merciless humans?

“Save me,” he could hear himself saying, before feeling an explosion inside him that made him loose control and collapse.

 _You’ve been naughty, little flame. How much more do you intend to suffer before you succumb?_

St. John knew that while he was being carefully taken to the infirmary, something or someone had been controlling him. And not only because of the fact that cool hands were desperately touching him, not even because of the cold tears being shed by those warm eyes. He knew something was wrong. He was waking up.

 _It’s too late to regret, little flame. You made your pact with the monster inside you. We are inseparable, fire and infinite walking always hand in hand._

And when he heard the scream of his love, he free fell. But he wouldn’t hurt a single hair of that controversial person who was filled with heat but covered in ice.

No, he would never be Pyro. Not on his free will. Because Pyro wouldn’t know how to love.

 **  
**

  


  


**4**

 **  
**

 

The lips met again, promises and love vows thrown at the Wind while fire and cold loved each other. And it didn’t matter that chaos was evoking explosions and storms in the sky, or that he felt as if death was coming. Because that was right, it was the end of the suffering.

 _Little flame, you’ll freeze. The closer you get to the artic, the weaker and useless you’ll become._

John knew that the reason why he couldn’t create his flames and only manipulate tham was the closeness he found himself to the ice. But soon the ice would melt, because their love was too hot. They were way too hot.

“This is not the end of the world for me, Bobby,” he could hear the words coming out of his mouth, the first time he’d confess it. Yes, that was the end and the beginning, and he needed to trace that line firmly to make sure it was clear enough. He needed that new beginning. “The end of the world would be not going to the same place as you.”

 _The little flame is being extinguished, St. John Allerdyce. You’re close to drowning in a sea of regrets._

He had already learned not to trust in words that couldn’t be said out loud. And differently than the monster inside him was saying, he knew he was stronger than ever.

“I’m Iceman,” Bobby’s blue eyes were firm, just like the hand that caressed St. John’s cheek tenderly. “And ice cannot exist without fire, Pyro.”

 _Run away, little flame! Run away, St. John Allerdyce! Pyro, the sir of hell, is in descension!_

He wasn’t afraid of that name anymore. Because from the point that name came from the lips of Robert Drake, ‘Pyro’ was sacred.

In that moment, they were Gods. And together they were on their way to their Olympus.

 

 _  
**The kiss - sweetest  
And touch - so warm  
The smile - kindest  
In this world - so cold and strong**   
_

_  
**The arms - safest  
And words - so good  
The faith - deepest  
In this world - so cold and cruel**   
_

_  
**We're so close to the flame  
Burning brightly  
It won't fade away and leave us lonely**   
_

**Author's Note:**

> I think the fact that St. John can only manipulate fire is something really interesting. And I couldn't write something about Pyro without making it a Pyro/Iceman story. Obviously.
> 
> The lyrics at the end belong to the band HIM.


End file.
